


Drink With Me

by queerfave



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Het, Background Relationships, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerfave/pseuds/queerfave
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire have thoughts about the barricade. After it ends, they recover.





	Drink With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anna_Rose17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Rose17/gifts).



> Anna_Rose17 requested this: "how about a lovely little R and E at the barricade, around drunk with me, and they just try to forget the pain of the barricade for a hit with some fluff"  
> I enjoyed writing this quite a bit. I love writing Angst to Fluff, and I loved incorporating my two favourite verses of "Drink With Me".

**Drink with me, to days gone by …**

 

Grantaire sits on the ground, examining the bottle in his hand. The night is calm and still around him, around the barricade. The stars twinkle in the dark sky as the whispers of his friends surround him. Their fear radiates through their barricade as they wait, anxiously, for the next attack. The dead had been collected and placed to the side; among them lay Éponine. The lingering mood was no longer of rebellion. Still, the stars shine on. 

_ The world doesn’t care about us.  _

Grantaire brings the bottle to his lips. 

_ The world doesn’t care that we’re dying.  _

He drinks. 

_ The world stands by while we are here, bleeding, dying. We fight, and what do we get in return? What do they give us?  _

Grantaire lowers the bottle down to the ground. He looks up, focused on nothing in particular. The barricade before him is a mass of darkness, illuminated only by the blue coats of the dead soldiers. His gaze is caught by the movement of red. He turns his head slightly. He stares at Enjolras, whose red coat is now splattered with someone else’s blood. His blond curls shine, even in the night. Enjolras paces back and forth, consumed by his own thoughts. A smile slowly spreads on Grantaire’s face as he watches him, the fearless leader in red. 

 

**Can it be you fear to die?**

 

Enjolras feels the gaze of another upon his back. He turns and lifts his head to meet Grantaire’s eyes. The eye contact is maintained for just a second before Grantaire’s head jerked downwards, back towards his drink. Enjolras’ eyes lingered for a minute before he looked back down and allowed himself to be consumed by his thoughts. 

_ I’m going to die.  _

_ My friends and I, we will all die on this barricade.  _

_ We are all facing our deaths.  _

_ What happens if others do not rise to take our place? What happens if our sacrifices are in vain? What becomes of us if our country does not rise? Will our sacrifices be in vain? _

Enjolras’ eyes lift to Grantaire again. 

_ Why is he here? He does not believe, he does not wish to fight. Yet, he sits here, waiting for his death. Why does he stay, and not flee?  _

Enjolras can’t take his eyes off of Grantaire. Grantaire is miserable, and he sits on the ground, nursing his bottle. His dark curls blend with the dark background of the barricade, and his face is no more sullen than usual. Enjolras must admit, he is attractive. He’s thought that for a long time, but he’s never confronted his feelings. All the glances, the small smiles, the gazes- Enjolras pretends he doesn’t notice, but he does. He stares at Grantaire now, and for the first time in his life, he thinks that maybe he doesn’t want to die fighting. 

 

**Will the world remember you when you fall?**

 

Grantaire blinks as he looks up again to catch Enjolras’ gaze again. His heart pounds faster in his chest, and he can almost feel it in his throat. His breathing becomes hitched. He swallows his own saliva, but he can’t break his eyes from Enjolras. There is no warmth, no kindness, only a blank stare. Grantaire knows his eyes are betraying his emotions. Grantaire knows that Enjolras can see his feelings plainly. 

Enjolras drops his head. Grantaire exhales a shaky breath, and he drops his head between his knees. Closing his eyes, he attempted to force his pounding heart back into his chest, and to steady his breathing. He hears footsteps walking closer, until they stop abruptly. Grantaire doesn’t look up. 

“Grantaire.”

The voice is that of Enjolras. Grantaire lifts his head up slightly to stare at the red waistcoat. He doesn’t want to meet Enjolras’ eyes again. He doesn’t want his eyes to betray him again. 

“Grantaire, look at me.”

He doesn’t dare. He just sits there, staring at the red of his waistcoat, completely still. 

“Grantaire, please.”

He doesn’t move his eyes. Instead, his hand suddenly shoots out, abandoning the bottle, to grasp Enjolras’ hand tightly. He can hear the sharp intake of breath. Enjolras doesn’t fight against the movement; instead, he wraps his fingers around Grantaire’s hand. He slowly lowers himself down to sit beside Grantaire. 

“Why are you here?” Enjolras asks slowly, as if he’s afraid to hear the answer. 

Grantaire sighs. “You.” His voice is rough, and Enjolras realizes it’s likely the first thing he’s said to anybody since he joined the barricade.

Enjolras bows his head. “That’s not an answer.”

“I’m here because of you, Enjolras. I’m here because I want to watch you succeed here, and I don’t want to leave your side.”

Enjolras says nothing. Instead, he closes his eyes. The silence is almost unnerving, eerie. A slight breeze whispers across the barricade, tousling both of their curls. 

“Why are you here? Beside me?” Grantaire speaks. He is hesitant with his words, and his breathing is rapid after he closes his mouth. Enjolras takes a deep, shaky sigh. 

“I always thought I would die fighting,” Enjolras says softly. “I always thought I would have a noble, heroic death, and people would rise to take my place. I thought it was my fate. I have never loved anyone, anything, as much as I love France, my country. I have never been afraid to die. When I look at you,” Enjolras pauses and looks Grantaire in the eye, “it makes me want to live. It makes me afraid to die. I don’t want to be afraid- that was why I ignored you. I ignored the look in your eyes, the small gestures. I ignored them all, so that maybe I could die in peace instead of wondering what would have happened otherwise. I ignored them, and you never knew that I clouded the look in my eyes when I saw the look in yours.”

 

**Could it be your death means nothing at all?**

 

Enjolras places his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. The tears begin to flow from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks. His breath is shaky, and Grantaire pulls Enjolras into his chest, still holding his hand. His thumb draws circles over Enjolras’ knuckles as the other splays over the back of his head, gently running fingers through the golden hair. There is silence between the two. The others glance their way but say nothing. Enjolras lifts his head from Grantaire’s shoulder. 

“What if I die tonight?” He says, his voice breaking. “What if I die, and the world forgets me? What if I die, and the world does not rise up?”

“That won’t happen,” Grantaire assures him, despite the similar thoughts rattling in his brain. 

“How can you know?” Enjolras asks. “How can you truly know that the world won’t forget us? How can you truly know that our deaths will mean something?”

Grantaire pulls Enjolras’ head back into his shoulder. 

“I know that, because I know you. If there is anyone that will be remembered, it is you. You are strong, you are fearless. You are the leader in red. If any one of us here will be remembered in centuries to come, it will be you. I know that.”

Enjolras squeezes Grantaire’s hand. “If I die tonight, at this barricade, I will die by your side.”

 

**Is your life just one more lie?**

 

Grantaire strokes a finger down Enjolras’ cheek, wiping away the tears. 

“Are we just living a lie?” Enjolras asks. “Are we just living a lie, a lie to ourselves? What will become of this, of us?”

“No, we’re not,” Grantaire declares. “We’re not living a lie.”

“You know that how?” 

Grantaire leans in and kisses Enjolras. His lips are warm and soft, and Enjolras leans into Grantaire’s touch. Everything is calm and peaceful around them. Enjolras loses any pain he has, and his head fills with only the feeling of Grantaire’s lips against his. 

 

**Drink with me to days gone by.**

 

Enjolras wakes up with cold sweats. His breath is shaky as he sits upright, his head swimming from the nightmare. Grantaire turns over and takes Enjolras’ hand, like the night before they had watched everything go wrong. 

“Did you dream about the barricade again?” Grantaire asks softly. Enjolras nods, and Grantaire pulls him back down, nestling Enjolras’ head into the crook of his neck. Enjolras takes a deep breath, listening to Grantaire’s heartbeat. He feels safe. 

 

**To the life that used to be.**

 

Enjolras sits on their couch, staring at his red coat. Grantaire enters the room and notices immediately. 

“Enjolras,” he says quietly. He sits beside the other and wraps his arm around Enjolras’ shoulders. “It’s over. You’re not at the barricade anymore.”

“I know,” Enjolras responds. “Sometimes I wish I could go back, just to see everyone smile one last time.”

“I want that too.” Grantaire takes the red coat from Enjolras and hangs it back up in the closet. 

 

**At the shrine of friendship never say die.**

 

“I miss them,” Enjolras says while curled up next to Grantaire. 

“I miss them too,” Grantaire responds. “I wish we could have them back, but I wouldn’t go back.”

“I would give anything to see them again,” Enjolras whispers. 

 

**Let the wine of friendship never run dry.**

 

There is a knock on their door. As it opens, Enjolras is greeted by the smiling faces of Marius and Cosette. 

“How are you?” Cosette asks gently. 

“Getting better,” Enjolras says. “It’s hard. 

“At least we still have each other,” Marius says.

“Thank god for that,” Grantaire smiles cheerfully, peeking over Enjolras’ shoulder. “Come in!” 

 

**Here’s to you, and here’s to me.**

 

Enjolras watches Grantaire from the door to their kitchen. Grantaire turns his head and catches his eye. 

“What is it?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” Enjolras says sheepishly. 

“Come on, tell me,” Grantaire smiles. 

“It’s just … I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Grantaire turns off the stove and walks over to Enjolras. Cupping his face in his hands, he leans in and kisses him.


End file.
